The Joker and Me
by DreamxXxStealer
Summary: What happens when you meet a psychopathic clown who's trying to drive you mad...? ...you go mad.


**Author's Note: **this is a little bit...mrr. Best I can say...but AndISupposeYouThinkYou'reWitty liked it when she read it pre-upload, so I'm assuming it's not as bad as I thought :) speaking of, any Sherlock fans, she does write some good fics! Lol. En-ee-way, read and review please and thank you...?

**'The Joker and Me'**

"Mark! Mark, get up!"

I groan and pull the pillow over my face, refusing to move.

"_Mark_!" my foster mother screams from the kitchen. I sigh from under my pillow, then stiffen at the sound of footsteps outside my door.

"Marky, Marky, Marky," my foster sister trills from the doorway "Marky, Mummy says get up now."

"Fu — buzz off Taylor, I don't care what 'Mummy' says." I snap, throwing the pillow at her. She dodges it neatly and grins.

"Naughty Marky can't use bad words on me. Mummy and Daddy say so," she giggles. I reach for a book to throw at her and she runs off, giggling. I swear under my breath, and drag myself out of bed. I dress slowly, prolonging the moment that will bring me face to face with Kate, my foster mom. I know that Taylor is bound to have told her that I had sworn at her, even though I hadn't.

"Every time," I mutter to myself as I walk to the tiny kitchen. "Every freaking time."

As I enter the kitchen, I see Taylor grinning slyly at me from on top of the worktop – and Kate glaring at me from behind it. I sigh and lean against the doorframe, preparing myself for the lecture that is on its way. Kate moves from behind the worktop to stand in front of me, a few feet back.

"Mark," she begins, her voice quiet but obviously angry. "How many times have I told you not to swear in front of my little Taylor? Hundreds, no, thousands of times! She is seven, Mark, a little girl. I will not have her innocence corrupted — "

"Sorry, innocence?" I ask without thinking. I regret it instantly.

"Mark!" Kate glares. "You are seventeen; Taylor is seven. You cannot use that kind of language in front of her! And the music you listen to at full blast, with no respect for others, what is that? Loud, screechy, rock crap! It is not at all suitable for Taylor's young ears."

I note the use of the word 'crap' in that, and nearly say something, but think better of it and just stand in silence while Kate rants on and on. I tune out, waiting for it to end.

"…and you wait until I tell Darren about your insolent attitude!" Kate yells, her face flushing red. I wait a moment, in case she decides that she has forgotten anything in her lecture. When she doesn't say anything, I push myself away from the wall.

"Finished?" I ask her. She scowls at me.

"Don't you start answering back. You'll be suitably punished for your behaviour," she snarls. I must look pale or something, because she sneers at me.

"No, you don't like to be punished by Darren, do you? Well, you just wait, Mark Stevenson." She turns away from me and goes to Taylor, who has been laughing silently throughout the whole of my telling off. I shoot her a dirty look and walk out of the kitchen. I go to my room, and slam the door. I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me. I've always had a problem with my temper, so today was no different. I breathe deeply for a minute, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work.

"Argh!" I yell, slamming my fists against the wall. I punch the plaster, not feeling the pain in my knuckles. "I hate them! I hate them all!"

My phone vibrates on my bed, interrupting my fit of anger. I blink, my fist hanging in the air. I let it drop and go over to my bed. Picking up the phone, I flip it up and look at the screen.

"Nance," I murmur, opening the text. "Hey Mark, you wanna come out?" I read out, smiling thinly. I text back a reply saying yes, and shut the phone. I start towards the door, and see something small and white on the floor. Judging by where it is, it looks like it has been pushed under the door. I frown and pick it up. I stare at the card I hold in my hand: a playing card. A joker. I think for a moment. Who had put it there? Taylor, most likely. She does weird things like that. I shrug and slip the card into my jeans pocket. Opening the bedroom door, I make my way towards the main door of the flat.

"Where you going Marky?" Taylor asks, appearing out of nowhere in front of me. I give her a look; unable to move any further because she is in the way.

"Out," I say shortly. "Now move out of my way."

"Say please…"

"Taylor!"

"I won't move 'till you say please."

"Argh, fine! Taylor, please move out of the way." I growl at her. She grins.

"No." she says. I give her the dirtiest look I can manage and shove past her. I hear her angry cry as I open the door and step out. I shut it quickly, and walk past the rest of the flats in the hall. I half-run down two flights of stairs and out of the block. I stand for a moment, savouring the cool air outside. I sigh and make my way towards the street corner, where I see Nance waiting for me.

"Hey," I greet her as I reach her. She smiles at me and jumps off the wall to give me a hug.

"Hi Mark. How's it going with the Laymons?" she asks. I shrug nonchalantly.

"Not bad. I'm in trouble with Darren again."

"Trouble?" she narrows her eyes. "He's not going to…?"

"Yep." I say, trying to sound as if I don't care less about getting beaten up by my foster dad. It isn't unusual, after all.

"Mark…" Nance starts. I stop her with a look.

"I can look after myself, Nance." I say, smiling weakly. She shakes her head.

"I wish you would let me help you Mark, it could make things easier for you. And you know that I would so enjoy getting my hands on that foul bastard."

I smile at Nance with admiration. "Nance Vaughn, you are really the most fearless person I know, you are amazing."

"Thanks," she says, blushing slightly. "Uh, shall we go to the park, or my place? My mom's at work but my dad's in."

"Your place; I heard that there was another round of vandalism at the park yesterday."

I wave goodbye to Nance. "See you later," I say, smiling at her.

"Yeah, see you later. Don't let Darren give you a hard time, okay?" she calls as I walk away. I laugh, knowing that there isn't much I can really do about it. I hear her laugh behind me and turn to flash her a grin. I jog down the street, trying to keep hold of the good feeling I have. It's the same whenever I go out with Nance; she is my best friend – my only friend really. But I can't keep away the feeling that I'm being watched for long. I've had it on and off through most of the day, the feeling that there is someone watching me from a distance. I try to shake it off, but it won't leave. I huff a sigh.

"Come on Mark, get a grip." I mutter to myself, attracting an odd look from a woman coming in the opposite direction. I keep my head down, walking slowly now. It isn't until I hear a giggle behind me that I realise that someone is following me. I look around and see someone run around the corner I have just turned. Someone in a purple suit. I stop and stare, listening to the sound of the footsteps moving away. I'm frozen until they have faded, and then I start towards the corner. I stand still for a moment and then look around the corner cautiously.

"_BOO_!" someone yells in my face. I gasp and fall backwards, landing hard on the floor.

"Woah—!"

I look up at the man above me. His face is covered in white makeup with black around his eyes. His horrible scarred mouth is accentuated by a slash of red lipstick or paint. The scars on either side of his mouth twist upwards into a terrible grin. As I stare in horror, the man starts to laugh.

"Hello. I've been waiting for you," he giggles, bending over me. He brings out a knife from his coat and holds it close to my face. My breath catches as I look at the sharp blade. I swallow hard.

"W — what do you want?" I gasp, my voice barely a whisper. The man grins at me.

"I would have thought that the question would be 'who are you'." he says, running the blade across my cheek. I try to scramble backwards, but the man grabs my arm in a vice-like grip. I am unable to move.

"Well? Are you gonna ask?" the man smirks, dragging me upright.

"Who are you?" I whisper, fearing the answer. The man grins wider, making the scars look even more gruesome.

"I'm the Joker," he says, tightening his grip on my arm. "What's your name?"

"M — Mark Stevenson." I tell him, my voice louder but still shaking. The Joker nods.

"Good. Now, you'll have to come with me, Mark."

I start violently, trying to pull my arm away. "Why? What have I done?"

The Joker seems amused at my question. "Oh, you've done nothing that wasn't to be expected. Come on, we don't want to miss our train do we?"

"Train?" I stop struggling and stare. The Joker giggles.

"Oh yes, we'll be getting on a train. Excited?" his tone is light, conversational, as if talking to an old friend he hasn't seen in a while.

"Uh…" I look at the Joker uncertainly. Why is he suddenly acting like he's my friend? He has a knife, for crying out loud! He keeps his grip on my arm and starts to lead me in the direction of the station.

Sitting on an empty train, I study my captor in a bit more detail. Under the makeup, he's probably not too bad looking. Minus the scars, of course. Every now and then he turns and looks at me, grinning as though we are the best of friends. Every time he does, I look away. I feel uncomfortable with this man. He seems to know me, but I know that I don't know him.

_Maybe you do,_ a voice in my head says uncertainly. _Maybe_ _you've met him before. He seems familiar…_

"Um…Joker?" I ask quietly. He looks round at me in surprise.

"He has a voice," he says, grinning again. "Yes?"

"Can I just ask…" I chicken out. "Where are we going?"

The Joker thinks for a moment. "Hmm, I'm not sure if I can tell you, Mark. Sorry. Anything else you want to say, while you have your voice?"

"How do you know me?" I blurt out before I have a chance to think about it.

The Joker smiles knowingly, making me shudder. "I knew you'd ask. Well, I have been following you for some time now. Waiting for you to be ready, really. I saw you today with your girlfriend – "

"She's not my girlfriend," I interrupt. The Joker cocks his head to one side, staring at me curiously.

"No? Okay then, your friend. Yeah, I saw you today, and you seemed a bit on edge. So I watched you in her house, and I noticed all the things I've been waiting for. No more interruptions please," he says as I open my mouth. "I'll explain it later. Maybe. Anyway, I knew then that you were ready. So I followed you from her house…pretty little thing, isn't she?"

I frown, thrown by his sudden change in topic. "What?"

"Your friend. What's her name?"

"Why?" I ask, immediately suspicious of his excited expression.

"Just wondering. Seems like you like her very much, and she likes you too, yes? Yes, she does. Lovely little birdie, pretty and delicate. Do you care for the pretty bird, Mark?"

"Leave Nance out of this!" I shout suddenly, surprising myself. The Joker grins, and I swear.

"Nance…short for Nancy?" he asks. I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to give anything else away. The Joker looks at me thoughtfully for a moment. I stare back, unflinching. I find that I'm not scared anymore. I can look into his scarred face without fear. Instead, I feel something like recognition and…admiration?

_Come on Mark. He is a psycho! Not someone to be admired. Get it together dude. _

I giggle, and put a hand over my mouth in surprise. Where had _that_ come from? The Joker just nods, like he knows what that's all about.

"Very good. Not long now," he murmurs, unusually serious. I don't try to make sense of what he is saying; I am too occupied by the rising hysteria that is threatening to burst out. I suddenly find that the Joker's scars are funny, not gruesome. The idea that I might be killed isn't worrying; it's amusing. I'm not scared anymore; I'm something else. I'm some_one_ else.

"What's happening to me?" I whisper to the Joker, who has been watching me silently. He is silent for a moment more, and then he licks his lips.

"You're just going through the last phases of sanity that you have left."

"What?" I stare at him, alarm only slightly present in the weird mix of new emotions that are whirling around in my head.

"It's nothing to worry about, just relax and let it happen. You'll be fine as long as you don't try to fight it…well," he says thoughtfully. "I'm not sure you'll be fine, but as close as you can get when you're insane. And you're going insane, Mark, no doubt about that."

I stare at him, the realisation sinking in. I don't want to believe him, but I know that he is right. Everything that has happened over the past year all makes sense. The weird looks I get from Nance sometimes when I say or do something strange; Kate's increasing yelling when I do nothing wrong; the kids at school that avoid me; teachers treating me funny; the dreams. The dreams are the main thing. I have the same kinds of dreams every night; running away from something I can't see: fighting with an invisible enemy. Now it all makes a horrible sense.

"No, no, no, no, no, no…" I mutter frantically, but even as I say it I know that there is nothing I can do. The Joker comes over to me.

"Mark?" he asks. I look up at him, almost desperately.

"Yes?"

"Let it all go. Just let everything go. Madness is like gravity. All it takes is a little push…"

I shake my head, starting to smile. "You're crazy," I laugh. "Mad as a hatter! Completely…completely…hahahahahahahaha!"

I start to laugh uncontrollably, unable to stop. Tears run down my face and my laughter grows louder and more distorted, until I can't tell if I'm laughing or screaming. The Joker just stands by and watches, his grin growing wider as my hysterics grow louder. I fall off my seat onto the floor of the train and laugh/scream louder and louder, my throat feeling like someone is shoving sandpaper down it. The world crashes down around me and everything goes dark.

I wake up on a hard floor. It is semi-darkness, but I can see fine. I look around. I'm in a small room with bare walls and a small bed. There is a window on the opposite wall from the door and a mirror by the door. I sit up and cross my legs, observing the room calmly. After a while, I begin to get a bit bored. I start to hum to myself tunelessly. I don't bother going to get on the bed; I'm fine on the floor. Some time later, the door opens.

"Hello, Joker. Am I okay now?" I ask, smiling at the scarred face. He grins back at me.

"As okay as you'll ever be now. You might want to be more careful of what you do though; you've made quite a mess of your face." He nods at the mirror on the wall. I stand up and walk over to the mirror curiously. I look at my reflection.

"Ah," I say, examining my face. I have several scratches on my face, probably self-inflicted, and a dark shadow across my cheek. I prod it, watching it go white where I touch it. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. "When did I do that?"

"While I was trying to get you in here. You didn't want to stay, so I had to drag you most of the way. You fell asleep eventually, but you are a fighter. Very good."

"Really? Hmm, I don't remember that." I wander over to the window and try to see outside. "It's too dark," I complain. "Where are we?"

"Not too far from your town. I thought you might like to stay close to where your enemies are…" the Joker trails off, looking at me speculatively. I think about what he means, and then I remember.

"Darren and Kate." I say, grinning inanely. "And precious little Taylor. Yes, that was a good idea Joker."

"I thought you'd be pleased," he says, folding his arms across his chest. He licks his lips. "What are you planning?"

I think for a minute, debating. "Well…how about I play with them first?"

There's a knock on the door, and Kate Laymon looked up from her book. _It's probably Mark – he's late._ She gets up and goes to the door.

"Darren! I think he's back." She opens the door. Sure enough, there's Mark. Standing bold as brass, with a stupid grin on his face.

"Why are you home so late?" Kate demands. Mark doesn't answer, just grins. Kate scowls; he's obviously in one of _those_ moods again. She moves away from the door.

"Come in then, stupid boy. Your punishment awaits."

Mark moves into the flat, looking around as if he's never been in it in his life. Darren comes into the room from the kitchen, and Mark turns to him. Kate is unnerved by the way that Mark just keeps grinning as Darren approaches him. There is something wrong, but she can't put her finger on it.

"How do you explain yourself, Mark?" Darren demands, balling his hands into fists. Suddenly, Mark's smile looks dangerous to Kate. She moves towards Darren.

"Darren, honey, I don't think—" she starts, but Darren puts up a hand to silence her.

"Not now, Kate," he says. He is looking at Mark angrily. "Well? Come on, explain."

Mark grins wider and reaches inside his jacket. Kate freezes. She doesn't want to know what he has in his jacket, but in her gut, she knows what it is. She tries to speak but her throat is blocked by fear. Even Darren is eyeing him apprehensively.

"Mommy," Taylor skips in. "What are you—" she stops at the sight of Mark standing there. She catches the strange smile on his face and starts to tremble. Kate reaches out and pulls her close.

"Okay, I'll explain," Mark says in a peculiar tone, his grin now looking slightly mad. "I'll explain everything."

He brings out the knife, his grin widening impossibly. He looks at the blade for a moment, as if admiring it, and then he looks at the terrified family. "Where should I start?"

**Author's Note: **I know that this ends of a rather 'tense' cliff hanger (although it's fairly obvious what's gonna happen next XD), but please remember that this is only a one-shot at the present time; don't expect another chapter until at least a few months from now, if at all. It depends on me getting over my own personal Mount Writer's Block and getting started again. But I did get an A* for this, lol. Review please and thank you? ^ ^


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